


The Matespritship at Khanah

by Laylah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Celebrations, Cuddling, Miracles, Multi, Polyamory, Religious Pastiche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wish this were normal," you say. You don't mean to. Usually you leave the idealism to the others, and you're the one who keeps an eye on your impending doom. "I wish this happened all the time."</p><p>SL kisses your cheek. "One day it will," he says. "Because we dared to hope for it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Matespritship at Khanah

You don't know either half of the lucky couple at this matespritship feast—before you met SL, you...didn't get to socialize much, and since you met him you've been traveling. The Dolorosa is the one who got the whole batch of you invited to the party; she apparently remembers the bronze half of the match fondly, and it's mutual.

Both of the lucky ladies were willing to let you all show up, even though you're disreputable vagabonds who are going to be completely doomed as soon as you make enough noise for the Empire to actually care. You figure they probably have good reason to like what SL has to say, honestly. Olive to bronze isn't _too_ much spectrum distance—or rather, olive is just low enough to get away with that kind of match—but it's still unusual.

They sure look happy right now, though, dancing in the courtyard with their wedding party. Torches flicker along the walls, the musicians play, and the new matesprits dance barefoot and laughing on the flagstones. Right now they don't give a slimy grubshit about the spectrum or the drones or their duty to the empire or _anything_ but each other.

SL nudges you in the grubscars with a stupidly gentle elbow. "You look like you're brooding again," he says. "I'm pretty sure it's not polite to brood at people who've just formalized their matespritship." When you glance over, you can just see the glint of his fangs. He's teasing.

"I'm not brooding," you say. "I just have an unfortunate face." He laughs, and your vasculars do that flopping thing they do whenever you pay too much attention to _him_ instead of just his cause.

DC comes spinning out of the dancing crowd to spill herself across both your laps. "You should be dancing!" she says. "We're here to celebrate, not sit around having a mope party."

"We are celebrating, beloved," SL says, carding his fingers into the wild curls of her hair. "Some of us celebrate more quietly than others."

You don't point out that he was just scolding you for the same thing. Instead you just lean into his side, because he's warm and for once you're all holding still, and that's...that's good. "They're both so happy," you say.

DC nods, or possibly just shoves harder into SL's hand. "They clearly adore each other," she says. "It's a perfect romance."

"I wish this were normal," you say. You don't mean to. Usually you leave the idealism to the others, and you're the one who keeps an eye on your impending doom. "I wish this happened all the time."

SL kisses your cheek. "One day it will," he says. "Because we dared to hope for it."

You must have something in your eye. SL is decent enough not to say anything as you blink furiously to get rid of it. DC pets your arm. Stop thinking about the future, you remind yourself. Just for tonight, think about now. He's told you before, and you know it's true: these moments of happiness, these gestures of love, _are_ acts of revolution.

"You're the best," you tell him. You kiss the tip of one of his blunt horns where it peeks through the jumble of his twisted locks. "Both of you are," you amend, because they already had each other and they were already _good_ for each other by the time they found you, but instead of leaving you to struggle with the question of whether you were heart- or diamond-broken, they welcomed you with open arms and _showed_ you the new world they were hoping for.

DC laughs. "Well you're the best too, then," she says. She catches your long-fingered hand in her tiny compact one. "You're trying to get sad again, but you don't need to. You make things better for us, too."

You squeeze her hand. "I'll try to remember," you say. You close your eyes and listen to the celebration music, the laughter of the dancers, the buzz of conversation just too distant to follow. SL and DC are both warm and solid against you, and DC is purring softly.

Right before you actually convince yourself that everything is fine, there's a delicate throat-clearing sound off to your left. "I do hate to interrupt you at a moment like this," the Dolorosa says, and unlike most people she actually sounds believable when she says that, "but I am hoping to enlist the assistance of at least one of you in keeping this celebration properly lubricated."

You crack a suspicious eye open as DC squirms into a sitting position, mostly in SL's lap. "What's the matter?" she asks.

"The jelly grubs have run out," the Dolorosa says. "Which has already disappointed a few of the guests and will disappoint more. May I borrow one of you to come with me to the market to replenish our stock?"

"Ugh," SL says. "You want to drag someone off when we're finally getting a chance to relax?"

The Dolorosa (even in your head you don't think you could get away with calling her DR) sighs. "I am sorry to trouble you. It is simply that I have known Tarata since she was a wiggler, and I want her celebration to be perfect."

"Didn't say I wouldn't help," SL says. He shrugs free of both you and DC. "Here, let me at the nutritive storage block."

You and DC trade looks—if they're out of jelly grubs, they're out; it's not like the Dolorosa is the kind of troll to just overlook something because it's misplaced—but she just shrugs, and you nod, and the pair of you follow along.

There isn't a whole lot to spare when you get there. It's been a rough sweep for just about everybody. Well, everybody lower than blue, anyway. SL just looks around and nods like he's satisfied, though. "Psi," he says, pointing to a set of three empty clay jars, "could you fill those with water?"

"Without lifting a finger," you say, because you can. You pick them up with your power and dip them in the rain cistern outside, then bring them back floating behind you. "Now what, o fearless leader?"

He nudges DC. "Take one of them," he says. You let your control over the first jar relax when she gets her hands around it. "Now let my mother have the first one," SL says. You're still not used to the blasphemy of hearing that word used for a troll, but DC and the Dolorosa act like it's nothing, so you keep your cool.

The Dolorosa looks into the jar DC holds out to her and her eyebrows arch upward. She reaches into the jar with delicate claws and lifts out a plump, dripping jelly grub, pale amethyst like the ones your old master saved for extra special occasions. "How," you say.

SL just grins, lifting another grub from the jar and popping it into your mouth. "You aren't the only one with talents, you know," he says as you bite down automatically. The sweet fermented jelly bursts on your tongue, the taste so rich that you don't even know how to respond. SL feeds one to DC, too, and she makes a delighted little chirr of approval.

You're still stuck on the question of how he could _do_ something like that, while DC and the Dolorosa are already taking two of the jars out to the party. You go with them, the third jar floating in your wake and SL rounding out the parade, and you'd swear you can hear him being smug behind you.

You pay him back by feeding him one of the miracle jelly grubs once they're set out on the refreshment table, your fingers lingering a second too long on the swell of his lip. Then DC feeds you a second one as the guests start coming over and discovering the bounty you've provided. You drag her aside so the wedding guests can enjoy the spoils.

"That wasn't possible," you say. "What he just did." Your tongue already feels heavy in your mouth; those are some ridiculously potent grubs.

"But he still did it," DC says, as if that's the answer rather than being your question. You stare at her for a minute and she takes pity on you. "That's what he's _doing_. Making things better. Even though it isn't possible."

You just stare at her for a minute, because actual optimism doesn't come easily to you. "I'm trying to believe," you say. Not just in SL's water-to-intoxicants trick, though that was pretty good. "In all these impossible things."

She hugs you, briskly and fiercely. "Good," she says. When she pulls back her eyes are sparkling. "You want to try another impossible thing tonight?"

Your turn to raise an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"

DC nods to her left, and you look: SL has found himself a quiet spot on the edge of the courtyard to sit and watch again. "Getting him up off his glutes to dance."

He'd look wonderful dancing, you're suddenly sure of it; your vasculars flutter again. You nod. "I bet between the two of us we can manage," you say. "Let's go."

**Author's Note:**

> Human Sufferer's version of this story comes from John 2:1-11. I couldn't help it.
> 
> Also I'm pretty sure Roach inspired the jelly grubs.


End file.
